The Cetoniae 



inspire me with much confidence. In this 

 instance my doubts are increased, for the 

 Cetonia-larva could not find the necessary 

 clay within a short radius, in the midst of 

 the decayed leaves around it. 



I myself, digging this way and that in the 

 heap, should be greatly put to it to collect 

 enough plastic material to fill a thimble. 

 What of the grub, which no longer stirs 

 from its place when the time has come to 

 shut itself up in a cocoon? It can gather 

 only immediately around it. And what does 

 it find? Solely remains of leaves, humus, a 

 bad mortar that does not set. The con- 

 clusion is inevitable: the grub must have 

 other resources. 



To divulge these resources will perhaps 

 expose me to the foolish accusation of un- 

 blushing realism. Certain ideas shock us 

 though they are quite straightforward and 

 consistent with the sacred simplicity of 

 things. Nature has not our scruples: she 

 makes direct for her goal, heedless of our 

 approval and our dislike. Let us silence a 

 delicacy which seems out of place: we must 

 ourselves become animals to a certain small 

 extent, if we wish to understand the beau- 

 tiful economy of animal industry. Let us 

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